The Things She Knows
by seren-mercury
Summary: She isn’t sure of much. Though there are things she knows. They just never realized how much. Post series, possible AU. Ch2 Companion Piece, She's never been less sure in her life, but somehow she knows more than she ever did before.
1. The Things

**A/N:** This a short post-series possible AU that more about the in-between the lines than what's actually said. Enjoy! And let me know what you think. I'd love feedback.

**Summary:** She isn't sure of much. Though there are things she knows. They just never realized how much.

**Title:** The Things She Knows

She isn't sure of much. Though there are things she knows.

She knows they expect her to look more like someone than she does. She knows she is a blending of two someones, two someones who aren't here. She tries asking once, she asks the older man, the one with the kind eyes who seems so out of place with the rest. He hushes her and tells her that one day she should know. He says that he won't let the same mistakes be made twice. They say that too, but she's sure it doesn't mean the same thing.

Angelo tells her in his way, wherein he says everything the way it's meant to be said, even if it isn't clear right away, he says that she isn't a mixture, she's what was in common.

Whoever they are, they're very important.

Everyone is always talking about them. They talk about more than one they, there is the they in which she feels warmth, when their voices hold contempt, and the they in which she feels uncertainty, when their tones speak of fear. All are extremely important groups.

The 'they' of better things must have done something very bad. Sometimes she thinks it's her. But she isn't sure why she has that impression or what that means. She doesn't tell anyone. It is hard to understand who they are, eventually it starts to slide into place. They look at her from afar and refer to another "her". The one she is supposed to resemble more. That is all they ever use, "her". She often wonders if that is just the only name they have, or if they are afraid to speak her true name. Sometimes she catches fondness in their words. But it is very rare, and very hard to see.

When they speak of "him" lines are more clearly divided. It is obvious that while in awe of whomever he was he caused them much grief. Perhaps he still does. Perhaps she still inspires fond feelings. They do not say. Though they are always spoken of in the past tense. It is difficult to decipher if this is relevant. Angelo speaks of him with much caring, as does her handler, and that means that the warmth at their mentioning is justified. Angelo is never wrong. He and the older man seem to have been attached to "her" as well. But neither will tell her if they have other names.

Sometimes she thinks that things are not supposed to be the way they are. As if outside of here things were quite different and those out there would be shocked to see here. One day she overhears a man who is often with her handler and Angelo, whom gazes on her with sad eyes as if he sees the resemblance they say is lacking, and the man with the squeaking extra appendage having a one-sided conversation. The sad-eyed man, often called "Broots", was obviously quite uncomfortable as the older one, called "Raines" told him that he was not to be caught trying to compromise the subject again, and then asked him how his daughter was doing in something called U-C-L-A. It will be two years before a project debriefing allows her to understand the concept of universities and their acronyms.

It was another six months after before she realized that she was the subject in question. Angelo is the one that tells her, after speaking of Angelo-Timmy-Angelo.

Her handler brings up the relativism of like and dislike many weeks later. She tells him subject is her least favorite word. The man with the tubes and canister sneers through the glass. When she smiles back, she hears the man with nine fingers whisper, "Now that's a little of both of them."

After one encounter with a conversation speaking of that "them" she stares in the mirror for three hours. She traces her features, separates them, mixes them back together again, trying to find out which ones are hers and which are his. Does she have her eyes and his nose? Her complexion and his lips? Her smile or his? In the end she still can't tell, and her face is sore.

Her handler asks her what her favorite word is, she tells him it's paradoxical, she thinks "they" is too simple for them to understand.

There are times when she finds people staring at her, but she doesn't think they see her, she thinks they see "them". Like when the man with nine fingers, Mr. Lyle, sees her after a project and says to her handler from the rail above, "Dear God, Syd she's too much like them sometimes. I mean you look at her and you just know. If anyone that knew them saw her…"

Sydney leaned backward and smiled, "You'd loose your precious problem solver." He paused and patted the other man on the shoulder as he walked towards the stairs, "And you know who would come for her then. _God_ help you all."

It's one of the nights she cries.

Angelo always knows though, and he finds her handler, he finds Sydney. They both sit with her and Sydney tells her stories of someone else whose life is not here, but out there. It sounds fantastic and terrifying, she thinks she'd like to try it one day.

The nights she cries, Sydney tells her that it is normal and natural, he asks her why she cries. Her answer is always the same. She cries for what is missing. He always asks her what is missing. There are times when she replies that she is not sure, others where she says she thinks it may be everything.

She is not sure why, but they call her Catherine.

Angelo tells her it's so someone important can find her.

She asks Sydney if she is lost.

He doesn't say.

* * *

_**review?**_


	2. She Knows

**A/N:** So, as mostly almost promised this is a companion piece to The Things She Knows. Feedback would be ever so lovely. I'd love to hear what you think. I considered posting it on it's own because it is well and truly a companion not a continuation but I didn't want anyone that alerted the piece to miss out. So enjoy and let me know what you thought. It's a lot shorter but it felt right.

**Summary: **She's never been less sure in her life, but somehow she knows more than she ever did before.

**Title**: She Knows

She knows she can't keep him.

She could ask, and he would stay. He would risk everything for more than these moments they've gathered.

He would stay and yet, as much as her heart screams for him to do so each time they meet she knows she never will.

The part of her that loves him this way is the same part that loves his selfless nature, the sacrifices he makes, and she would never be able to cheapen it in that way.

They need him more than she can lay claim.

She knows that.

So she asks for one more moment. One last time, one more kiss, one more...

Eventually she will run out of excuses and as always her bed will be cold on the side he favors. Perhaps it more over the side she does not. It's not the kind of thing she can remember any longer. The times that came before that side was his, before these moments that they stole.

They steal them from the hunters, whom she imitates. They steal them from the victims, whom he intends to save.

Covert thieves that steal time from the shadowed clocks, steal caresses beneath silk, steal breaths from one another.

She knows that one day this will all come crashing around them. It is only a matter of when. That has always been the way, at least that she has seen. The other shoe will drop and she's not sure she'll survive this time.

He asks her to hope for more, and she tries though she knows much better. She will always know better.

But when he laces a fingertip across her skin and asks only for her hope in return, she almost gives it to him. She's given him everything else.

But she knows she can't keep him.

They need him so much more. He doesn't belong to her. Though she's long stopped pretending that she does not belong to him.

For now it will be enough that if it weren't the way it was. If the world hadn't, if the Centre hadn't, if...

If the choice could be his, if his heart were to have any deed or title, it would bear her name.

Not the unfortunate innocents of the twentieth damned century.

No, she can't keep him.

He isn't hers.

She can't keep him...

But she intends to borrow him for a while.

* * *

**_review?_**


End file.
